Can You Hear Me?
by spacecattet
Summary: Your voice. Strained, unused, and barley audible. If only your words wouldn't meet just the ears of the deaf. If only you could speak louder. If only... you could hear me. Can you hear me? [ set after the battle. rated t for strong language ].


**Can You Hear Me?**

He was the kid sitting in the corner of the room. With a head of light, almost white, blond hair and gray eyes. Whispers would be heard about him; how he seemed to suck any cheer from the air. Dull, gray, and downright creepy, they'd state.

He, however, didn't care about the whispers. Well, in a sense anyways. They hurt, and pretty badly. Especially when some of those whispers wandered from the Slytherine house itself.

But he chose to not let them hurt for he didn't are of their opinions anyways. They were simply underclassman, who didn't even know what he'd gone through. His hands twitched.

Draco had returned to Howgwarts for an eighth year after the great battle. He liked to think of it as a time for him to better himself. And to, possibly, clear any ill thought of his past. He helped out quite a lot. But however much he seemed to pick himself up, they would knock him back down.

Still bullied, even after Voldemort's demise. His jaw clenched and he gripped his quill a bit tighter. The feather bent ever so slightly until he released the pressure and continued to scribble down nonsensical words that hardly registered to him.

For a moment, his eyes began to wander to the front of the room. However, he snapped them down quickly and scolded himself. He shouldn't let himself be distracted; be led astray by his own confused thoughts.

Or, at least, that's what his father had called it. He wrinkle his nose and the scribbling motion of his quill decreased to a sway, until it didn't move at all.

With a risky decision, his eyes snapped upwards and landed upon the rather scruffy looking head of a certain someone who'd joined him in completing the last year at Hogwarts.

His hair was jet black, and even if he couldn't see them himself, he knew his bright green eyes were concentrated on the paper before his face. Always the teacher's pet. Always the hard worker. And always, apparently, better than him.

Draco felt a stirring in his chest. The stirring always confused him, always reminded him of the day Potter saved his miserable life. The day his vision of Potter began to warp and crumble.

"Mr. Malfoy?" came a distant sounding voice. At first he hardly even realized his name had been called, before a sharper, "Mr. Malfoy," was spoken. And loudly, mind you.

His head snapped up and his face reddened a tad at the muffled sound of giggles. His eyes met with the irritated expression of the class's professor staring at him.

His gray eyes left the professor's face to connect with green eyes. Great, not only was he being snickered at, but Potter was giving him a strange look. Just brilliant.

Fumbling with his quill, he began to dutifully scribble down more heedless notes.

* * *

"Can you hear me?" said the voice again, even more persistent and annoying than the first time it was asked. Draco moved his expression to look up at his attacker. Obviously, it was Potter. He felt his teeth grit and he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Do I really annoy you that much, Malfoy?" came Potter's much more annoying and jerring question.

"Of course you do, Scarhead!" he finally snapped, his temper piqued and his eyes seething. "All you ever do is pick fights. Is that what you want, Potter? A fight?"

His reply had been testy - yes - but not harsh enough to receive a glare from Granger. But there she was, fixing him with a sharp expression of agitation.

He sheepishly sank into his chair and avoided her gaze. The only reason he was eating lunch with this lot was because they were, undeniably, the only out of a handful of students to return to the school. And another reason was he'd actually found Granger's company to be comforting.

He would even go far as to say he was friends with her. Not quite friendly like good friends, but they talked and understood each other. There was a sympathetic quality to their friendship that he enjoyed. She, unlike anyone, was able to listen to his problems with ease and nod patiently.

If he were to tell Blaise, or Pansy - especially Pansy, they would snicker and roll their eyes. That was the problem with Draco. He always chose people he knew would let him down.

But so far, Granger hadn't done so. And now, he had to deal with the stinking Weasel and annoying Potter every single day of his life. It was like dancing the same jig over and over, it got old and tiring.

Harry raised his eyes and wrinkled his nose in an annoying way. As if he were judging Draco and his lack of comebacks these days.

And suddenly, without so much as a warning, Potter leaned over the table and came to a close proximity of his own face. And a bit too close, for his liking.

For whatever reason, Draco felt his throat swell and his chest tighten. That made the beating of his heart all the more louder and harder - he was sure even Potter would hear it.

"Is that all, Malfoy?" he asked, seemingly not able to detect the drowned expression worn on Draco's face.

"Fuck off, Potter," he snapped, almost panicked sounding. Now he didn't care what Granger thought. She would understand, surely. His eyes flicked down to stare at his food, willing himself to ignore the fact that he could hear Potter's breath.

In different circumstances, he would probably stare at those incredibly vivid eyes and delicious looking lips. It took all his effort to force himself not to look at them. He felt if he looked too long, Potter would find out what he really wanted.

"Tsk tsk. Always the touchy one, aren't you?" he sighed, leaning back to his regular position and shooting Hermione and Ron a roll of his eyes. He sounded disappointed. And It infuriated Draco.

Potter wouldn't call him touchy if he really knew what Draco imaged doing to that stupid face of his. In his younger years, he'd probably want to maul it until it was unrecognisable. Now, he only wished to wipe that smug grin off of his face. In more ways than one.

He heard a mumble from Grander and sunk lower into his seat. Maybe her sympathy wasn't as appreciated now. Because he only imagined that look for the rest of his life. He would always be the pitied little kid; forever stuck on one day in the past.

Sometimes he thought he would burst and ask the question. Simply spill out his own questions and indulgences to Potter and get his long awaited answers.

Draco clenched his fist and stared hard at his untouched plate. He didn't feel like eating - much like every routine he came across. Every single day.

With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

"Why did you save me? That night - in the Room of Requirement. When everything was burning and I was the foulest person alive, you chose to save me. You chose to. Why? I… I treated you so badly for so many years. I wanted you dead for so many years," his voice was shaky. No doubt, he sounded like he was on the brink of tears.

His eyes remained closed and he felt his hands were shaking. "Potter, I can't let it go. Not ever. Ever since then I've felt - I don't know - a change inside me. It's like my thoughts revolve around you and it's driving me insane. I despise it, and I despise you for it. But… but the truth is, I fear, that… Potter, I think I-"

His eyes snapped open and his words cut off into the stagnant air. They only met with disappointment and more hurt. His shoulders sank and his expression returned to the dull look he always wore.

He was met with empty seats. Apparently, they had left just before his little breakdown. He could still see Potter. He was almost walking out into the hall, and for a moment, he saw him turn and their eyes met.

Though he couldn't hear him, Draco let out a whisper.

"Can you even hear me, Potter?" he asked, a hint of anguish lilted into his tormented voice. "...Can you hear me…?

* * *

A very short dabble in my passion for Drarry. This was merely because I was bored, and also because of a "challenge" on what to write. This challenge was to write something about my OTP on the subject "Can You Hear Me". c:

So here you go, no more silence! Its not PJO but still.


End file.
